


The Places You'll Go

by inkasrain



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:12:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkasrain/pseuds/inkasrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kieren and Rick have often thought about running away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaci3PO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaci3PO/gifts).



> Dear Kaci,
> 
> I wish you a very belated, but still heartfelt Happy Channukah! I loved diving back into the wonderful, twisted world of 'In The Flesh' to write this story, and I deeply hope that you enjoy it!
> 
> Have a wonderful winter and all the very best,  
> "Nonny"

Kieren and Rick were seven years old the first time they decided to run away.

The game - for it had started as a game - had been Rick’s idea at first, and Kieren had blinked at the daring proposal. He sat up on the forest floor, pulling his eyes away from the sky and the gaps between distant dark branches. The early-summer damp sank through his jacket.

“Let’s run away, ‘Ren,” Rick repeated. His eyes were round with excitement, tickling Kieren with silent promises; it was a look which Kieren already knew he would always follow.

Still, Kieren considered the idea carefully for a moment. “Won’t our mums miss us?” he finally said. _And Jem_ , he thought, but of course, Rick had no Jem to miss him.

Rick pursed his lips. “Nah,” he decided. “We’re big now, aren’t we? It’s what dad always says.” The bigger boy pushed himself to his feet. “Besides, we can come back and visit whenever we want.”

He grinned at Kieren, a smile that pulled him along like a magnet. “Race you to the river!”

To the river they ran - Rick won the sprint, but Kieren didn’t mind - and then to the sparse fields past Roarton proper. They lingered for what felt like ages, hopping between tree stumps and wrestling in the tufty grass. The daylight stretched on, seemingly endless, and so did the world. The boundaries and borders which Kieren had always imagined, hemming him inside Roarton, had melted away in the heat of his and Rick’s decision.

“Rick,” he said later, as the two tired-out boys lay head-to-foot in the grass, “Where should we go, now that we’ve run away?”

Rick was quiet for a bit. “I was thinking about the fair in Milton,” he said, “But it’s only on on Sundays, I think. And anyway, I left my pocket money at home.”

“Me too,” Kieren admitted to the sky. Silence settled over them again. Kieren’s stomach rumbled.

Sensing that Rick would not want to be the one calling a halt to their grand plan, he offered, “Should we go home, Rick?”

“Yeah,” Rick said quickly, hoisting himself up onto his elbows to grin at Kieren in relief. “I mean, if you want to, ‘Ren.”

“Yeah,” Kieren agreed. “And we can run away again any time we want to.”

Kieren and Rick had slipped back home that summer evening before anyone knew they had meant to leave forever, but the doors of the world didn’t close behind Kieren as the heavy wooden door creaked shut.

They waited, paitently.

That night, he picked up a pencil and tried to draw what lay beyond. But according to his pencil, what lay beyond the doors of Roarton looked an awful lot like Rick.


	2. Holes

The boys were thirteen and slumping through double maths with Mr. Grincher when Kieren slipped Rick a note across their adjacent splintery desks.

“I’m running away,” was all it said, until Rick added the words “Where are we going?” underneath.

“Anywhere,” Kieren wrote, and tucked the scrap of paper into his pocket.

The problem was Danny Archer, he admitted to Rick later as they picked their way through the cold, dripping forest. A large young man in their year at school, Danny had moved to Roarton only months ago, but had already become a persistent presence in the boys’ lives.

“I hate him,” Kieren said, his voice cracking under his vehemence. “I _hate_ him.”

Rick eyed Kieren uncertainly, squinting through the rain. “Danny’s not so bad,” he offered lamely. “He--”

“He calls me names in biology,” Kieren said.

“Aw, but ‘Ren--”

“And he steals my homework whenever he can get it.”

“He does that to--”

“And he hunts me down if I’m alone in the boys’ loo and, and…”

Rick stopped, stricken. “And what?”

“But he’s always on your side during football,” Kieren said bitterly, tramping forward through the sodden undergrowth. His school shoes and socks were soaked. “And he makes you laugh and your dad thinks he’s a champ, I know, so I guess _Danny’s not so bad_.”

Rick caught up to Kieren quickly, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him to a stop next to a tall rocky outcrop. He had already outgrown Kieren by several inches, and had to look down into his friend’s face.

“What’s he done, ‘Ren?” Rick whispered, watching the uncommon, stinging rage simmer in Kieren’s eyes.

Kieren was quiet for moment, torn between his anger at Danny (which felt good) and his anger at Rick (which felt awful) but finally, the words came out. Words that came from Danny Archer and felt like fire in Kieren’s mouth; insults, insinuations, and the gestures he had made in the loo. His face burned, seeming to steam in the chilly rain.

Rick’s face was pale and blank, his shoulders hunched. His mouth opened twice, but he said nothing.

Humiliated, Kieren turned away from Rick and trudged deeper into the trees. Cold water squelched in his stiff shoes, angry tears welling in his eyes.

“Hey, what’s that?” Rick said from behind Kieren. His voice was distant and small. “‘Ren? D’you see this?”

Reluctantly, Kieren turned to see the bigger boy approaching a rounded fissure in the rocks. Gripping the edge, Rick pulled himself up and scrambled inside.

“What are you doing?” Kieren yelled, in spite of himself. “You idiot, Rick!”

“C’mere!” Rick called from the darkness of the rocks. “Kieren, it’s a den! Come and see!”

“Dammit, Rick,” Kieren muttered, the swear word tasting strange on his lips. The anger and shame still sizzled in an unhappy pit in his stomach, but he was too accustomed to coming when Rick called him. And besides, there could be foxes or snakes in that hole, and Rick would never even think to look for them until it was too late.

Rick’s pale face poked out of the hole as Kieren approached. “It’s great in here, ‘Ren!” he said, reaching down to grab Kieren’s arms. “It’s dry and everything. Can’t believe we never found it before.”

Rick’s voice echoed slightly in the small, sloping space. It was a tight fit at first, but the fissure widened into a cave big enough for the boys to sit opposite each other. The cave was dark, the murky afternoon light too weak to reach back so far, until Rick flicked on the lighter he had filched from his dad the previous week.

“Do you think there are snakes in here?” Kieren asked sourly, disguising his relief at being out of the rain. He pulled off his shoes and socks, settling his feet on the chilly stone.

“Don’t think so,” Rick said, glancing around. He grinned. “Don’t worry ‘Ren, I’ll keep you safe. I always do.”

Kieren forced his eyes up to meet Rick’s, dancing in the dim yellow light. “Do you?” he whispered.

Rick flicked the lighter closed, dousing them in darkness. Kieren could hear Rick swallow.

“Did Danny really do those things, ‘Ren?” he whispered, his voice sweeping into a higher pitch than it had in months.

Kieren nodded in the dark. “And he… he found some of my drawings once,” he said, blinking furiously at the tears that pricked his eyes. “Tore them up. He said… he said I was fairy for drawing. For drawing _you_.”

Rick was still for a moment, and then let out a muffled yelp as he slammed his fit into his backpack, resting between his legs. “That tosser!” he yelled, banging at the bag. “What a… what a…”

He looked helplessly at Kieren, whose eyes had adjusted enough to watch his friend in the failing light. “Why didn’t you tell me, ‘Ren?” he asked. “I… I thought he was our mate.”

“I know,” Kieren said. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Rick sniffed. “Well, you should have done.”

Warm relief flooding Kieren’s stomach. “I know,” he said.

“You’re my best mate, ‘Ren,” Rick said. “I don’t give a shite what dad says, or Danny, or anybody. You’re my best mate.”

Kieren swallowed. “Thanks, Rick.”

“I’m your best mate too, yeah?” The light was gone, but Kieren could hear the wavering grin in Rick’s voice.

“You’ve always been my best mate, Rick,” he said.

“D’you still want to run away?”

“Nah,” said Kieren. “I want to go home and watch you sock Danny Archer.”

Rick’s laughter echoed through the cave.


	3. Roads

The last time Kieren and Rick ran away together they were seventeen, and much too drunk to notice.

Together, they swayed down the misty moonlit road leading away from the pub. Kieren’s letter of acceptance to the Chelsea College of Arts - opened hours before - was still clenched in his left hand, a life raft buoying him through the dark village.

His right hand was wrapped around Rick’s shoulders, clutching his friend for support as they stumbled and sang the wrong way down the road. Rick’s arm was a warm weight across Kieren’s back.

“Wha’did I tell you, ‘Ren?” Rick mumbled again into Kieren’s hair. “They’d be barmy not t’take you. Didn’t I say that?”

“You did!” Kieren laughed. “The whole time, you said it.”

He had never in his life been so drunk, and had rarely been so happy. His feet were numb and the road was dark, but Kieren wanted nothing more than to keep walking, safe and warm beside Rick. The road sloped downhill, lit only by a few sparks of distant lights.

The boys kept walking.

“I don’t wanna say goodbye t‘you ‘Ren,” Rick said after a while. “When we graduate. And you’re off’n London.”

“London,” Kieren repeated. “It’s… it’s bloody far, isn’t it.” His words made a miraculous cloud in front of him; he watched as it drifted off into nothing. He felt Rick nod against his shoulder, imagining him fading away like a mist of breath. In spite of his oversaturated brain, Kieren's mouth suddenly went dry.

“Maybe... maybe you could come with me,” he said, more to himself than to Rick.

Rick stopped walking. Kieren stumbled, their arms still entangled.

“To London?” Rick asked. “Come t’London?”

“Yeah!” Kieren said, realizing dimly that he was shouting. “Come with me to London!”

“I’ll come with you to London,” Rick said, dazed, and then bellowed, “I’m comin’ with you to London!” He dragged Kieren into his arms, pulling him so tightly that Kieren never wanted to breathe again.

Afterwards, Kieren could only remember sparks of their drunken stumble down that misbegotten road. He remembered the familiar crunch of paper in his fist, and the taste of beer and silver clouds. He remembered darkness and stars, a black road and a happy song. Sudden bright lights and the pale moon of his mother’s face peering out from the window of the car.

Thinking, _We're running away to London_ , and laughing so freely that he fell down on the slick pavement.

And Rick’s rough lips pressing softly on his own, strong fingers twining together, the cool wind around them the sweet, saving air rushing through those doors that had opened ten years before.


	4. Lasts (Epilogue)

Cigarette smoke wafted blue in the cold light of the lantern, a narrow beam through the den. Kieren and Rick lay head-to-foot in the space, which had grown narrower in the years since they had discovered it, but no less dear.

They didn't talk much; they had spent so long planning and beating out the kinks in their plans for London (and worrying over those kinks - mostly shaped like Bill Macey - that refused to be beaten) that neither Rick nor Kieren could think of much that needed saying.

"Van's coming at eight," Kieren finally said, yawning.

"You've mentioned that," Rick said, and Kieren could hear the smile in his voice. "What's the time now,?"

“Mmm, half eleven,” Kieren said. “I guess we should be getting home. Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Rick pulled himself to a sitting position, grinning at Kieren where he lay. “Big day.” He gripped Kieren’s hand so their palms were flat together, fingers linked, and took a deep breath.

“A’right,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

Kieren watched him go, his shape growing smaller as Rick crouched through the entrance. He listened to Rick's feet shushing through the late summer leaves beyond, his idle whistle that lingered through the forest. Kieren smiled at the dim, sloping roof of the cave, painted silver by the lantern.

It was only later that he realized that he had watched and listened and smiled as Rick had been running away.


End file.
